Twice Into The Same Stream
by kate04us
Summary: Sometimes life takes unexpected turns and those are not always good. Sometimes what we want most seems impossible - until we reach another turn and suddenly find the courage to try again. And sometimes we need the darkness to see how much we need the light.
1. Chapter 1

.

.

 **Twice Into The Same Stream**

 **Chapter 1**

by Kate04

 **.**

 **.**

" _Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies."_

 _\- Aristotle_

.

.

 **A/N:** A big thank you once again to **RockinRobin B** for her quick and fantastic beta and to my darling twin **Kadi219** for being an awesome cheerleader and for discussing plot and characters with me.

Just to be on the safe side, this gets a **WARNING** for slight violence and the possibility of a miscarriage. Nothing too graphic, though.

This story is finished, but because I like to torture you a little, I'll post a chapter a day once again. :D

 **Disclaimer:** Not my sandbox, not my toys. I don't get paid for playing with them and I promise not to break them.

.

.

 _January 2005_

Captain Sharon Raydor sighed in resignation as she closed the file in front of her, put it and the other documents that littered her desk into the top drawer and locked it. She rubbed her tense shoulder muscles with her hands, trying to ease the pain, rolling her head to loosen the knots, but it was useless. Spending almost two straight days on her feet or behind her desk without more than a short walk to the café around the corner as a break was apparently not as easy as it used to be. The thought of a hot bath and a few hours of sleep made her moan with longing and she didn't lose any more time to finally get out of the office and make it happen. It was very late – or maybe very early, depending on how one wanted to look at it – and she was the last person on the floor. For once, it was a quiet night for FID and the on-call officer was allowed to sleep through the night. She groaned when she realized that it would be her turn the following night and not for the first time she questioned the wisdom of spending so much time looking into that case on her own, but she knew if had it to do over, she'd make the same choice.

Despite what people thought about her and her squad, she did not enjoy accusing fellow officers of any kind of wrongdoing. Whenever suspicions or complaints were brought to her attention, she tried her very best to find out the truth, always hoping that she could clear the officer. Her years of experience showed her that things often weren't what they looked like on first glance, so she had learned to approach each case without any preconception about either the suspect or the person making the complaint. Especially when serious accusations were made she treaded very carefully, knowing that once the idea was out there, people tended to make assumptions. They talked and spread rumours and before she had a chance to prove anything one way or the other, someone was already found guilty in the court of public opinion.

Her current case was exactly one of those delicate situations. A suspect had reported an excessive use of force which had triggered a routine investigation. It was one of hundreds of complaints she had to deal with every year – until something didn't add up. The logical place to start when a suspect claimed to have been beaten up during an interview was of course the surveillance tape of that interview, only in that case there had been a mysterious malfunction of their equipment, meaning there was no recording for her to review. Although that was not exactly a regular occurrence, the building was old and so was the technology they used. These things happened and it wasn't anything to be too suspicious about. Then the suspect who had made the complaint had gone missing or, as the officers in charge of him claimed, he had been misplaced. That too, did happen occasionally, but it was usually done deliberately in order to slow down the process, giving them time to gather evidence to nail the suspect and hopefully confirm they had the right person. If the technical malfunction had not been enough to confirm that there was something they didn't want her to find, her missing victim definitely was. It only made her dig harder. She had never liked it when people tried to decide what she needed to know, so by trying to hide the truth from her, they had only succeeded in making her more determined to find it.

She had spent hours interviewing members of Gang and Narcotics Division, trying to get to the bottom of that complaint, only to end up with more versions of what had happened than the unit had officers. When there still had been no trace of her victim by the end of that day, she had started looking into the division's old cases, not just their history with FID, but also a random selection of those that had not led to any complaints. She was aware that it had been largely out of spite that she had gone that far. There was not a lot she could hope to find in their own files, but it was a way to yank their chain and make sure they knew that trying to mess with her was a bad idea. She could not start a full-blown audit without it being ordered by the Chief, but in her experience a little poking around usually helped them remember that cooperation was the easier path to walk. No one had been more surprised than her when she actually had found something. Since she was unfamiliar with the way things were done in that division, she had contacted an old friend who had retired from that unit and asked him to look at some of her findings to see if she was on to something.

They had spent most of the previous night in her office poring over case files, taking note of every person arrested, where they stood in the food chain of their gang and what had happened with them. The pattern that emerged had been more than troubling, indicating a practice of preferential treatment of gang members who were suspected or known to be affiliated with the Sinaloa Cartel. Occasionally, a relatively unimportant gangbanger was arrested and charged with possession, drug dealing or some other minor offence that got them a few years of prison at most. When they had tried to track those convicts down, they had run into another puzzle. If they hadn't found their untimely end in prison, almost all had been found dead shortly after their release. As it turned out, those cases were under investigation by Priority Homicide because the Chief and the Mayor were afraid of a gang war.

Both Sharon and her friend Detective Richards had been aware that their findings would have to be turned over to Chief Johnson, but she hadn't been ready for that yet. With the way that these investigations had been handled, with how those deals had been made and how paper trails had suddenly run cold, everything pointed to one man and Sharon had not been willing to dump the name of a decorated officer of the LAPD into a huge murder investigation without being as certain as she could possibly be that he really was involved. Richards had agreed with her, suggesting that she discreetly looked into his financial situation to see if he had made any suspiciously large purchases lately.

The following morning she had done just that and while she had been waiting for the results of her inquiry, she had once again attempted to get Captain Sanders and his team to cooperate with her. Her seventy-two hours were running out and she still hadn't had a chance to talk to her victim. When she had spoken to Sanders a second time, he had seemed a lot more cautious in the way he answered her questions, giving her suspicious glances when he thought she was busy focusing on her notebook, trying to find out what she knew.

Then Little Mattie had made a sudden reappearance, having been located in a holding cell down with Traffic and no one had known how he had possibly ended up there. When Sharon sat down across from him in an interview room, she had barely been able to suppress her reaction to the state of his face. It had been bruised and swollen, his lip split and he'd had a large cut over his left eye. Somewhere along the line he had obviously received medical attention, which was a tremendous relief, because otherwise the charges he could have filed might have been a lot more serious. As it turned out, he hadn't been willing to repeat his accusation after all, claiming that he had been beaten up before he got arrested and that his complaint had only been an attempt to get out of being arrested. She had known that he had been lying but without a complaint her use of force case went away, which was probably why they had suddenly been able to find Little Mattie for her. They had hoped that it would get her out of their hair and put an end to her snooping around in their old cases.

She had let them believe that, wandering back to her floor to write a quick report on the complaint and subsequent withdrawal of that initial statement before she had taken a look at what her inquiry into Captain Sanders' financials had produced. That had only been two hours ago and she was still reeling from the findings. The man certainly wasn't stupid. There were no records of any overtly suspicious transactions and he lived a lifestyle that corresponded with his income. Apart from one purchase in his wife's name - a large beach house at the Mexican Gulf Coast, paid for in cash. If it hadn't been for the resources the FBI had been able to put into this, they probably would not have found out about that at all. Sharon was glad she had decided to approach Agent Howard with this inquiry despite her concerns about his close relationship with Chief Johnson. He had given her his word not to talk to her about anything relating to this case, provided she shared her findings if they proved a connection of the two cases. With that last piece of her puzzle, she was satisfied that she had enough evidence against Captain Sanders to make Chief Johnson aware of the results of her investigation, but that could wait until morning. Chief Johnson would want a detailed briefing and she would want it immediately. Before she could deal with the notoriously impatient woman, Sharon needed some sleep. Captain Sanders wasn't going anywhere.

She slipped into her jacket on her way to the elevator, wincing as her back protested. Just another half an hour and she would be up to her ears in hot water with a large mug of tea in her hand and some relaxing music playing in the background. It was her idea of heaven and she couldn't wait to get there, to leave work behind for a few hours. Maybe she would even be able to eat something more than a dry bagel or plain lettuce this time. Lately, her attempts to eat anything else had ended in a bathroom stall revisiting her most recent food choice in a very unpleasant way. Experience told her that it would likely be another week or two before her stomach settled down sufficiently for her to consider indulging in more satisfying meals without fear, though. At the moment it all came down to instinct and a lot of luck.

As she stepped out into the parking garage, she drew her jacket closer around herself, shivering as the cold night air hit her. The sound of her heels echoed loudly through the dimly lit structure, making it feel even more deserted than it already was. She hurried across the short distance to her car, eager to get out of the cold and be on her way home, one hand digging through her purse, trying to find the car keys.

She did not hear him approach and the moment she looked up and saw his reflection in her car window it was too late to react as something hit her in the back of her knees hard enough to knock her to the ground. The force of the blow and her subsequent fall made her lose hold of her purse and she heard it slide over the concrete floor, obviously kicked out of reach. Pain shot through her head from where she had first hit it on the side of her car and then on the hard ground, and she saw bright spots dance behind her closed lids. Fighting through the pain and dizziness, she tried to roll away from her attacker to get to her feet. Just as she had struggled to her knees, his foot connected with her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She slumped back to the ground, curling into a tight ball, her hands instinctively covering her lower belly protecting it from the heavy blows that landed against her back. The assault continued to her shoulder, her legs, and with one particularly strong swing directed at her ribs, she thought she felt them crack under the force, a sharp pain shooting though her, making it impossible to breathe.

It felt like an eternity with blow after blow raining down on her, the agony so all-consuming that she could no longer tell where she was hurt or how badly. All she wanted was for it to end, for sweet oblivion to swallow reality and wrap her in a comforting blanket of darkness. Then there was the bang of a closing car door somewhere in the distance and her assailant froze before he frantically looked around him to locate the sound. Risking a quick glance at him, she noticed his unremarkable, dark clothes and the black mask that covered his face. When he turned back towards her, their eyes connected briefly, but she couldn't see them very well. Her vision was a little blurry, making it hard to focus. What did catch her eye as he raised his hands, a baseball bat held in his iron grip, was the torn sleeve of his black jacket. With startling clarity her gaze fixed on it, her mind not able to make sense of why it felt so important, why she seemed to be unable to move away from what looked like it would be his last blow, aimed at her head. A strange sense of calm settled over her as she realized that that would be it; she would die right there on the cold concrete in an almost deserted parking garage, only steps from hundreds of LAPD officers. Sharon felt a giggle bubble up inside her, but it only came out as a choked whimper without the necessary breath in her lungs. A detached part of her mind noted that it was probably a stress response issue and not related to the unbelievable irony of being killed in the police headquarters' car park. And why couldn't she tear her eyes away from those oddly flapping ends of the torn jacket sleeve?

There was a sudden bright light and for a moment Sharon thought that it was all over, but then she heard rapid footsteps retreating into the distance and once she could see again, the man with his bat and murderous intent was gone, and so was the light. All was silent once again, the dark and cold and the pounding inside her head her only companion. A small voice inside her head tried to tell her something. It was urgent and annoying, insisting she move when all she wanted was to sleep. Just for a few minutes. Just until the world around her stopped spinning. At least it had stopped hurting. The little voice attempted to warn her that no pain was not good at all, but she didn't want to listen, didn't see why she should want to suffer through more of that inconceivable agony.

As time passed, it became harder and harder to hang onto one specific thought, her mind jumping erratically. For a long while she had shivered terribly, the involuntary movement causing an occasional shot of pain to slice through the numbness. Then the shaking stopped, as did the pain and the cold. Her vision was limited to shadows and light, no discernible shapes. Sometimes she heard a car, slamming doors, footsteps or distant voices. It all sounded far away. Once she thought someone was close by, their footfall almost painfully loud. She tried to call out to them, but she couldn't remember how. She couldn't feel her lips and her tongue was thick and limp inside her mouth, completely useless. It felt as if every last bit of energy left her, seeping into the cold ground along with her blood and body heat. Her thumb twitched against her belly, the closest to a caress she could manage, and she wished she could cry. Her last thoughts were loud, a deafening scream inside her own head, full of anguish and regret.

 _I'm sorry._

And then there was only silence and darkness.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Andy groaned as his phone rang, the annoying sound even louder in the quiet parking garage and it seemed to take ages to get it out of his pocket to answer. As if his head didn't hurt badly enough already. A brief glance at the display showed him what he suspected; it was his partner, probably trying to find out why it took so long to shower and change into a fresh suit.

"What?" he barked into the phone, hoping to adequately convey his displeasure. Provenza knew how much he hated to be rushed like that and taking an hour and a half out of what already was a forty-nine hour shift certainly wasn't asking too much. Listening to the usual litany of complaints, he locked his car and made his way to the elevator. As Andy took a breath to ask about the purpose of his call, the older Lieutenant changed the subject to their current case, telling him to stop by the crime lab and pick up the report on the evidence from their latest crime scene. When Provenza started to grumble some more about his personal hygiene practices, Andy decided to hang up but before he could tell his partner to keep his unwelcome opinion to himself he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. In the shadow next to a car he made out the shape of a person lying on the ground. Telling the other man to hold on a moment, Andy made his way over to the motionless body. At first he thought it was a homeless person seeking some shelter from the chill of the night. Sometimes they managed to sneak past security and found a quiet corner that was safer and maybe a little warmer than their usual place. When he got closer he could see some of the person's clothes – a dark blue coat, a black skirt and heels, not the outfit of a homeless person. Jogging the last few meters, he yelled into the phone for Provenza to call an ambulance. As he gave the Lieutenant his location, he knelt down beside the still form on the ground, a curse echoing through the building when he recognized her.

"Shit! Get a team down her right now. It's Captain Raydor and it looks as if someone has beaten her up."

With that he ended the call, tossing the phone aside, his hands frantically searching for a pulse. Her skin was pale and cold, her lips blue and for a heart stopping moment he thought that he was too late. But then he felt it, weak and irregular. Shrugging out of his jacket, he covered her with it before he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, his finger caressing her cheek as he tried to rouse her, his voice shaking with worry.

"Sharon, come on, wake up. Let me see you eyes."

He kept talking, desperate pleas and strings of senseless words, begging and demanding. One hand stroke her head, the fingers of the other keeping track of her pulse, counting in his head, every single flutter rippling through him with the power of an earthquake. The distance between each beat felt endless and it seemed to increase the longer he knelt there, leaving him breathless with fear. Life was slowly leaving her body. He could feel it drain away with every shallow breath and every almost unnoticeable heartbeat. She was slipping away right in front of his eyes, this vibrant, funny, intelligent and kind woman, so full of life and passion only a few weeks ago. He was losing her and he couldn't stand the thought. He couldn't lose her.

"Don't leave me. Please don't leave me," he muttered again and again, mesmerized by the way the blue and red light of the approaching ambulance made her appear even more ghost-like. Everything seemed distant and unreal as the quiet was suddenly filled with shouting and running and orders tossed this way and that. Someone grabbed his arms and dragged him away from her. He heard them talk to him, but he didn't want to listen, didn't want his fingers to be torn away from the proof of her continued existence as if her heart would stop beating if he didn't feel it. He wanted to scream and maybe he did, three words all he could think about.

 _Don't leave me._

 **\- TBC -**


	2. Chapter 2

.

.

 **Twice Into The Same Stream**

 **Chapter 2**

by Kate04

.

.

 _October 2004_

Andy Flynn didn't like weddings. Maybe it was because his own marriage hadn't turned out too well. He really couldn't remember if his cynical view of all the fuss people made over that one day had always been there or if it had crept up on him as his relationship with Amanda had deteriorated. Years ago, when these things had been too annoying to take, he had simply gotten drunk and for a few moments he wished that was still an option. The thought of a large glass of bourbon was heavenly, the sound of ice clinking happily as he swirled the amber liquid, the distinct smell and the refreshing burn as it made its way down his throat to start a little fire of comfort in his stomach. Fortunately, the open bar only served wine and champagne, neither of which he had ever particularly cared for. Those were the advantages of attending the wedding of an AA pal.

He and Marcus had met years ago at their first AA meeting and had ended up developing a weird sort of friendship that had been interrupted occasionally, whenever Marcus had fallen off the wagon, which had happened quite frequently in the beginning. The last time he returned had been only two years ago, more serious about his recovery than he had been before. They had grown closer since then as they spent hours and hours talking about their lives and problems over coffee after meetings. With the way the other man had always talked about his family and friends, Andy had the feeling that he knew them all a little bit, but as he stood there alone in the middle of that huge crowd in the large ballroom of Berkley's best hotel, he felt out of place. It had never occurred to him how limited one's knowledge of a person could be if they were only part of one particular aspect of one's life. He might have heard a lot about the man's personal history and the people who had influenced it, but that was a far cry from experiencing all those things friends usually did together like suffering through family dinners and getting yelled at by a friend's wife because of something or another they might or might not have done to get in trouble.

Observing how welcoming and warm everyone was towards Marcus filled him with a jealousy he had no desire to feel. He should be happy for the younger man, that he didn't have to go through the same hell with the people around him as Andy. It was easier said than done however, when he wanted nothing more than for his ex-wife and children to forgive him, to get a chance to be the father he knew he could be now that he was sober. He could not blame them for being cautious because he had been a terrible husband and father, had disappointed them so many times that their refusal to let him be part of their lives was only natural. Understanding the reason behind it did not make it hurt less, however.

Nursing his cranberry and soda, Andy tried hard not to let his unpleasant thoughts show on his face. He had no intention of being the grumpy, frowning guy every large celebration seemed to have. This was Marcus' day and he had no business ruining it with his own morose thoughts, even if he had reason enough to feel bad. Not for the first time that night did he think about just getting into his car and heading back to LA. The plan had been to stay at the hotel with the other guests to avoid the long late night trip, even though he would be sober and able to drive. It was simply a matter of convenience. In addition to that, he had looked forward to spending the night in a nice hotel room with his very pretty date. However, that had not quite worked out the way he had planned. Only an hour into the reception, the pretty blonde had spotted someone a short distance from them and excused herself, explaining that the large, muscular guy she was staring at with wide eyes was an old friend. The way she had said that had given him a pretty good idea what kind of friend he was. She had not returned to his side since, and it had been several hours, long enough for him to get the message; he had been dumped for a younger man. It was not so much his heart that was hurt as his ego. They had only met a few weeks ago and had not done much more than explore their physical compatibility. Beyond that, they didn't really have a lot in common. She was young and pretty, a little naïve and not terribly bright, but she knew how to show him a good time and up until a few hours ago she seemed to have enjoyed his company as well. Then things had changed, making him feel pathetic and old and used up. Maybe he really should stop going for those young chicks. But they liked him, they didn't want more than he was willing to give, and he didn't have to be afraid to get too invested emotionally. That was something he had left behind when he had signed his divorce papers. Love was a ship that had sailed for him long ago and he was content that way.

There really was not much for him there anymore and he was getting ready to leave, looking for the bride and groom from his quiet corner. As he let his eyes wander over the ocean of dancing, drinking and laughing people, a forced smile firmly in place, he spotted a familiar figure on the other side of the dance floor. She wore a midnight blue, floor length dress that hugged her figure nicely. With her hip leaned against a table behind her and nursing a glass of wine, she appeared somewhat lost. The way she observed the crowd, her expression aloof, almost wistful, she exuded a vulnerability and softness he would never have expected to see in Captain Sharon Raydor.

Theirs had always been an interesting relationship. He was a hothead with a rather relaxed view of rules and regulations, someone who tended to speak before thinking things through. Sharon Raydor was the exact opposite and whenever they had run into each other in the past, she had made it abundantly clear that she did not appreciate his attitude. They snarked, they yelled, she sent him to anger management courses or sensitivity training or some other course he definitely did not need, and he yelled at her some more for being unnecessarily mean. There was always a certain tension between them. It was not entirely annoyance or hostility, at least on his side. She irritated him more than anyone else, but with the anger-induced rise in blood pressure always came something else, a tingle down his spine, a twitch in his fingers from the urge to thread them through her hair, a tightening of his lips as he tried to keep his tongue from moistening them as he thought about nibbling on her lower lip. She tended to pout a little whenever she got really annoyed and it never failed to get his blood pumping, even more so because he was certain that she was unaware of that habit. And then she did that thing where she planted her hands flat on her desk to glare at him with those bright green eyes and it gave him a spectacular view of her cleavage, making other parts of his anatomy perk up.

Sometimes, he would catch a certain look in her eyes, a spark lighting them up even more, and he could almost believe that she felt it too. That was a ridiculous notion, however. She hated his guts for being a pain in her backside. There was no way she wanted to do anything other than club him over the head with something solid. Why every part of his body was alight with fire at the thought of holding her close to him while they swayed to the soft music was a mystery to him. She would never allow it. She probably wouldn't even want to talk to him now that she did not have to. Andy knew that the wisest choice would be to walk away, to retrieve his bag from the room he did not intend to use and head back to LA where he could forget about that horrible day, where the temptation of Sharon Raydor in an evening gown was far away. His ego definitely did not need another rejection in the same day. And yet his eyes seemed unwilling to move away from her, lingering on every curve, on the way her hips gently swayed to the music, her eyes occasionally closing to savor it. She looked sensual and it added an unexpected dimension to the person he was familiar with from work, making it even more impossible to walk away. She was a mystery and, being a cop, he simply could not leave it unsolved. Resolved to just observe her from a distance and see how many other unknown aspects of her personality he might uncover, he settled back against the wall and kept observing.

Sensual, sad, relaxed, lonely, lost, radiant – there were so many different emotions on her face, in the way she held her body, moved, sipped from her wine, and let her gaze linger on the boisterous crowd. There was no hint of the kick-ass, no nonsense police captain she was at work. In that moment, she was completely woman, vulnerable and lovely, making him want to protect her, which was ridiculous because she was more than capable of protecting herself. She would never tolerate what she would call his blatant chauvinism, had in fact told him so many times. So why did his feet carry him across the room towards her? Why did he have this irrepressible need to talk to her, to get to know the person she was when she didn't carry her badge? What did he even want to say to her? There was not a terrible lot they had to talk about apart from a little polite small talk, if she even let him get that far. It was a terrible idea to approach her, but he seemed to be unable to stop himself. Making his way along the back wall of the room, avoiding the crush of bodies on the dance floor, he approached her from the side. She looked in the other direction and did not notice him next to her, which gave him the opportunity to study her elegant neck, the partly bared shoulders and the tantalizing view her generous neckline offered. Before he started to feel too creepy, Andy quietly announced his presence.

"Fancy meeting you here. You come here often?"

 **\- TBC -**


	3. Chapter 3

.

.

 **Twice Into The Same Stream**

 **Chapter 3**

by Kate04

.

.

 _January 2005_

Andy hated the smell of hospitals. It reminded him of all those endless days he had been tied to a bed to recover from various injuries and all the times he had spent waiting for the outcome of a colleague's surgery. This time it was different. The person he was here for was not a colleague. Not really. She was a fellow officer, but that was definitely not why he was here, dread sitting in the pit of his stomach like a large, cold stone.

 _Don't worry too much, sir. I'm sure your wife will be okay._

His wife. No, she wasn't his wife. He couldn't remember if they had asked him or not, but somehow the EMT had gotten the idea that he was Sharon's husband and he had found neither reason nor energy to correct him. What was the point, anyway? From what he had heard, her real husband currently wasn't exactly on the list of her most popular people and neither her children nor her parents were local. Setting them straight would only have meant that no one would be allowed to be there for her.

The young EMT had tried his best to reassure him, but his optimism had only lasted until he had dug through Sharon's handbag, searching for any information about possible allergies or medical conditions he should know about, since he hadn't been able to get that information from Andy. After looking at a picture he had retrieved from the purse, the medic had handed it over to him, his eyes sad and his expression full of regret. It had taken a moment for Andy to comprehend, even though it hadn't been the first time he had seen the printout of an ultrasound. When he had made sense of the name and date on the picture, his breath had caught in his throat and he had looked at her still flat belly in wonder. For a few precious seconds he had seen their future dance in front of his inner eye, her leaning against him, laughing happily, beaming with pride as they both looked at the tiny being securely held in her arms. The image had burst like a bubble, however when his gaze had met that of the man across from him. Suddenly his compassionate expression had sunk in and the iron fist of dread and fear that had seized Andy's heart the moment he had found her on the ground of the parking garage had tightened once more, making him fear that it would simply stop beating. Looking at her, her face red with blood from a cut above her right eye and her hair soaked with it, angry bruises already starting to show, it had been hard to imagine how that little spark of life inside of her could have remained unaffected. The medic had told him that he should wait for the tests they would do at the hospital. For the moment he should draw hope from the fact that there didn't seem to be any noticeable bleeding.

It was that hope he still clung to just as tightly as he held that precious image between his hands. He had no idea how long it had been since the nurse had pushed him into one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room, assuring him that they would take good care of his _wife_ , that she would come and get him as soon as the doctor was done and they knew what they were dealing with. Andy had complied, mostly because he didn't have the strength to fight with anyone, with the image of Sharon's curled up body and the sensation of her cold skin and weak pulse still too vivid. His thoughts spun around in an endless circle of hope and fear, of possibilities and painful reality. Mixed into the memories of her battered and almost lifeless form on the cold ground and the wishful thoughts of an impossible future were recollections of the last time he had seen her, tears and longing in her eyes and her body rigid with pain of a different kind as he had turned his back on her, on them. How can you be afraid of losing a person who was never yours to begin with? It was a question that went through his mind repeatedly and he was still no closer to an answer. She could have been his. Maybe she even had been for a few breathtaking hours, but they had walked away from the amazing possibilities, both too scared to take a chance with their hearts, too frightened of losing the other. And here he sat, his heart breaking at the notion of a world without her in it.

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes against the burning of tears as he heard the familiar sound of his partner's footfall getting closer. When the older man slumped into the chair next to his, Andy didn't look up, not wanting to reveal the depth of his distress to him. They sat next to each other in silence for a few moments, before Provenza reached over to gently take the picture from him. Andy let him have it, his gaze now on his empty hands where they hung between his knees. Empty hands – would that be what he would leave this hospital with? Would a blurry picture be all he would have left of her?

"Damn!" The heartfelt exclamation of his friend drew Andy out of his thoughts for a moment and he risked a glance at him. He was shaking his head, still staring at the ultrasound when he spoke again.

"I didn't know her old man was back in town. Last I heard he ran off with some young, blond thing to lose some more money at a poker table."

The urge to punch his partner in the face came as a surprise to Andy, and he had a hard time restraining himself. The old man might wonder why his friend was so affected by what had happened to the Captain, but he had no way of knowing why he cared so much and why the notion of Jack being responsible for the fuzzy little shape in the picture made him so unbelievably angry. If he were honest, he would have to admit that it wasn't really Provenza he was irritated with. A small part of that anger was probably directed at Sharon for not telling him, but mostly he was mad at himself for not fighting for her when it had mattered most.

Snatching the image back, Andy smoothed it against his thigh, one finger tracing the outline of the tiny head.

"It's not Jack's," he growled, waiting for his partner to understand what he was implying. He counted the seconds it took Provenza to process his words, because it was the least painful thing to focus on. It took eight seconds until his friend's head shot up and he stared at him in shock, all the pieces suddenly falling into place. Andy sighed, waiting for the inevitable string of questions. Instead, the other man gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before he stared at the ground in front of them once again. His voice was quiet and full of sympathy when he finally spoke after a long silence.

"How's she doing? Did they tell you anything?"

Closing his eyes, he shuddered at the memory of having to let go of her hand when they had taken her away. Not knowing was hell, but he was also scared out of his mind about what they might tell him.

"They couldn't say much. She was hypothermic and they're pretty sure that she has a concussion and probably a broken arm. The paramedic said that she must have been there a while. If she had any severe internal injuries, she would already…" The thought sent a chill through him and it settled inside his bones, making his hands shake slightly until he pressed them against his thighs. "She wouldn't have made it this long. They got her stabilized on the way in and they'll let me know as soon as they're done with the tests. It's gonna take a while."

He didn't need to say how much he hated waiting, how it was killing him to sit around without anything to do. Andy Flynn had never been a patient man and the old Lieutenant could see how much this entire situation was taking out of him. These were ideal circumstances for falling off the wagon, but he wouldn't let that happen. He would have to watch him closely and try his best to keep him distracted. For the moment, getting him to talk sounded like a good idea.

"While you were sitting around here, we started looking into what happened. The Chief marched into the Pope's office earlier and convinced him that it was our case. It's not a homicide, but someone attacked a cop in our own damn parking garage, so it's definitely priority. Surprisingly, he agreed. We got a timeline together with footage of her crossing the lobby towards the garage, but there's nothing on the actual attack. Someone disconnected the security cameras down there late last night. It's a safe bet that he was waiting for her to leave. Whoever we're dealing with is no amateur and so far we have a whole lot of nothing. The Chief sent me here to get an update on the Captain's condition and find out if there's anything she can tell us – preferably the identity of her attacker. A list of people she pissed off lately would help, too."

Andy knew what his friend was trying to do and he welcomed it, letting his mind dive into the case, away from all those dark thoughts that were slowly spiraling out of control inside him.

"What about her guys? Did you ask her pet Sergeant what cases she's been working on recently?"

A grunt and an exaggerated eye-roll were his answer, letting him know just how much Provenza had enjoyed that particular conversation.

"Yeah, I talked to Elliot. He had no idea. There was some issue with someone in Gang and Narcotics a couple of days ago, but he said it seemed like a regular complaint. He did notice that she was working on something that seemed to be bothering her, but she wouldn't talk about it. Elliot asked if she wanted help and she declined, which seemed a little odd to him but he didn't push it. There were no files on her desk or anywhere else in her office. If she has been working on something, she must have locked it inside her desk drawer or taken it with her."

Nodding towards the black purse that sat on the chair next to Andy, he went on, "Did you find anything in there? Files, notes – anything?"

Andy shook his head, wondering about that. Every cop had some sort of notebook and he knew from personal experience that Sharon loved taking notes. "No, there was nothing in there, which is odd. Do you think our guy took it with him?"

The other man hummed and tilted his head, thinking about a possible sequence of events and it didn't make sense to him. "It's certainly possible, but why would he take whatever files she had with her and leave her alive? She's no idiot. She wouldn't carry around evidence or anything else that was irreplaceable. If she was attacked by someone she was investigating and they wanted to cover their tracks, they wouldn't have left her alive. Our current theory is that the perp got distracted and ran off, which would make it impossible for him to snatch anything from her purse."

Nodding slowly, Flynn saw his point. "I guess we'll have to wait till she wakes up and hope she has some answers. The thought of _anyone_ getting away with something like that annoys me, but if it's someone she investigated, that means it's a cop and _that_ I can't accept."

They all agreed on that. No one wanted to walk through Parker Center and wonder who, of all those people they trusted to have their backs, was capable of beating up a fellow officer. A friendly punch in the face happened every now and then when tempers ran hot, but this was an entirely different thing and that small part of him that still fought against the cynicism even after all those years on the job made him want to believe that it didn't have anything to do with her job.

"Are we even sure that it's someone she investigated? What about old Jack?"

Andy snorted, surprised that the old man would even consider that possibility. Sharon's husband was many things, but he had never been violent. Besides, he didn't think Raydor would have the stomach for something as cold-blooded as almost beating his wife to death and he said as much.

"I didn't mean he himself, but he's been known to mingle with all sorts of shady characters. What if he owes money to the kind of people who wouldn't hesitate to go after the wife?"

They both thought about that for a while, but in the end it didn't feel likely to Andy. "Yeah, but why would they do it at Parker Center when they could just as well have waited for her at home without half the LAPD around? And how did they manage to take out the cameras without drawing any suspicion? It just doesn't make much sense. The longer I think about it, the more I'm convinced that it's one of our own guys."

Provenza nodded, having come to the same conclusion. They both stared at the glass doors behind which the person with all the answers was – at least they hoped she had answers. He sensed that his friend was getting sucked into the darkness of his thoughts again. It worried him, but it also made him curious about that thing he seemed to have with Nurse Ratched.

"So, what do you want to do now?" With a sweeping gesture that included the stubbornly closed doors and the picture in Flynn's hands, avoiding to ask the most obvious question. The other man just shrugged helplessly, closing his eyes against the many ways in which it could all end badly.

"I don't know. I guess I'll wait till she wakes up and then we'll talk. There's no use thinking about it before we know if there even is anything left to talk about."

The defeated tone made Provenza swallow in an attempt to hold back the reassuring words that wanted to spill out. He knew all too well how these things usually ended and there was no point in making false promises. Studying the man next to him, it was clear that he didn't believe his own words.

"And yet you are. Thinking about it, I mean." Andy simply nodded, his fingers caressing the image of a child that he hadn't had a chance to meet yet and because of some lunatic probably never would.

"Do you wanna tell me how that happened? Maybe talking about it instead of having it haunt your thoughts will help a little." It was a long shot and Louie half expected to be told to go to hell, but eventually Andy started to speak of that night a few weeks ago when he ran into Darth Raydor and ended up getting to know and admire Sharon.

 **\- TBC -**


	4. Chapter 4

**Twice Into The Same Stream**

 **Chapter 4**

 **by Kate04**

 _October 2004_

"Fancy meeting you here. You come here often?" The cocky, slightly ironic way in which he delivered that stupid pick-up line startled Sharon out of her thoughts. She tore her eyes away from the dancing couples to look at the man who had just joined her in the quiet corner at the back of the room. He leaned against the low table behind her, one hand curled around a glass of what looked like juice and the other buried in his pocket. She had to admit that he looked incredibly handsome in his black tuxedo, the crisp, white shirt and that lopsided smile.

It wasn't as if she had never noticed how attractive he was. They had run into each other at work often enough and he was one of those cops with an impeccable sense of style. Yes, she had noticed him before, but usually she had to deal with the consequences of his explosive temper or one of those insane situations he and his partner seemed to find themselves in all too frequently. Most of the time he was a huge stack of paperwork and a headache waiting to happen, even though she secretly enjoyed the times they butted heads. It was something special – different than dealing with other disgruntled cops. His passionate nature spoke to something deep inside her. It was exciting and scary and she preferred not to think about it whenever it happened. It had never occurred to her that she would one day be truly glad to meet him while off duty.

"I happen to like weddings. I didn't expect to see you here, Lieutenant. Bride or groom?"

"Groom. I've known him for a few years. We were out having coffee when he met Melanie. I may have pushed him a little to go over to her and introduce himself. Guess that's why I've been invited. We're not really that close." He shrugged, then looked at her.

"What about you?"

"Bride. We went to college together. We hadn't had any contact for years until we met again at one of Gavin's infamous parties last year."

Andy knew the boisterous lawyer from his time at the City Attorney's office and had no trouble imagining what he would consider a good party. The thought that the uptight Captain Raydor was good friends with such a colourful person was a little strange, but it was a well-known fact. However, in her beautiful dress she looked anything but uptight. It showed an enticing amount of cleavage, hugging her upper body and hips tightly before flaring out to swish around her legs with every move she made. He had found himself appreciating her curves before, but those business suits didn't do any justice to her stunning form. His gaze kept getting drawn to her long, slender neck. He couldn't remember ever seeing her with her hair pinned up in an elaborate twist before, a few strands curling around her face, brushing against her pale skin.

Shaking himself out of his fascination, he looked around, searching for the familiar form of Gavin Baker, frowning when he couldn't spot him.

"So where is our favourite lawyer?"

Sharon grunted and rolled her eyes, clearly unhappy with her friend.

"He stood me up for a hot date with a pack of Tamiflu."

"So you're here all alone?"

His question made her bristle immediately, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him. She didn't care much for the pity in his tone, not liking to be seen as some sort of charity case. Besides, she didn't see anyone by his side, either. What right did he have to judge her?

"Where's your hot date, Lieutenant?"

Andy shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, avoiding her piercing gaze and trying not to let her confrontational tone get to him. He had no desire to start one of their verbal battles. A wedding was hardly the place for that. When he answered, his previous teasing tone made room for a more matter of fact one in an attempt to placate her.

"She dumped me for a younger guy. Her ex or something like that."

He nodded towards a pretty, young blonde who was wrapped around a tall man in a white dress uniform. Pursing her lips, Sharon instantly felt bad for her biting tone. Being left in the middle of a wedding party for a handsome young Navy officer was cruel. She might occasionally have laughed about Flynn's legendary taste for women almost half his age, but seeing first hand the bruised ego he tried so hard to hide made her feel sorry for him. She knew a thing or two about being left for a younger model and it wasn't an experience she wished on anyone else. Taking a step closer, she gently bumped her shoulder against his arm, giving him a commiserating smile.

"I'm sorry."

They stood in companionable silence for a while, sipping their drinks and observing the happy couples on the dance floor. At some point, Sharon grew tired of their private little pity party and, placing her empty wine glass on the table behind her, she straightened and threw a challenging look at the man next to her.

"What do you think? Would it irreparably damage your reputation to be seen dancing with a sad old broad like me?"

Andy let his eyes travel along her body, down to her crimson toenails peeking out of silver shoes, and all the way up again, deliberately lingering on every curve. A slow smile spread over his lips as he extended a hand.

"Captain, you look neither sad nor old and it would be an honour if you would consider giving me this dance."

His gaze left her tingling with warmth and she couldn't suppress the grin that spread over her face at his obvious appreciation. It had been a long time since anyone had bothered to look at her like that, completely obvious and unashamed and it felt great. Just as great as his hand on her hip, only a couple of inches too high to be inappropriate, or the way his body moved against hers, solid and strong. He was a surprisingly good dancer; the chemistry they had discovered while clashing professionally was even stronger with their physical connection.

Sharon loved to dance, but finding a willing and compatible partner was difficult. Jack had never really liked it very much and the times he had taken her dancing over the many years of their marriage could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Ever since Jack had decided to be gone from her life more than he was in it, she had either asked Gavin to accompany her or attended events like this alone if she could find no way of getting out of it. The few male companions she had had over the years were carefully kept out of her social circles to avoid possibly damaging rumours about her personal life. She hadn't been looking for emotional entanglements, anyway. She had a husband and he was enough of a headache. Despite her instinct to be emotionally guarded she felt herself give in to the magnetic pull Andy exerted on her, ignoring the little voice inside her head that warned her of the possible risks.

"Maybe under the circumstances you should call me Sharon."

The slight huskiness of her own voice surprised her and if his smug grin was any indication, he had picked up on it.

"My pleasure, Sharon."

With that, he took her through a series of elaborate and fast-paced spins and dips that left her slightly breathless and kept her too busy staying on her feet to consider the direction her treacherous thoughts took.

When the last notes of the song floated through the air she sighed, disappointed that it was already over. Andy seemed to feel the same, as he did not let go of her. Instead, he fluidly guided her into the next dance and the next one after that until she lost count, not even noticing the changing music. The shift in rhythm was effortless, his lead gentle but firm, and she let go completely, trusting him not to let her spin out of control. She had lost all measure of time, her feet long past hurting, the light dimmed from cheerfully bright to romantic and the music slowed down. The respectful distance between their bodies had shrunk over the last several dances until he had his arms wound around her waist and her hands were linked behind his neck, her head resting against his jaw. It was a powerful feeling, this connection with another human being, intoxicating and addictive and Sharon wished it would never end.

At some point, his hands started caressing her back, stroking up and down and he pulled her even closer. Her eyes drifted shut and she hummed contentedly as his lips brushed against her temple, his nose buried in hair. When she didn't protest, Andy continued to trail soft kisses down the side of her face and along the shell of her ear until he reached the soft spot right behind her earlobe where the smell of her perfume was even more enticing. She trembled in his arms, a moan drawn from her as she tilted her head slightly to give him better access. Encouraged by her response, he kissed his way down her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin before soothing the spot with his tongue as his hands slowly moved lower, over her hips, down her thighs and up again until they cupped her firm, round cheeks, pulling her against him.

 _She should stop this_. That thought flitted through her mind briefly, chased by other, more crucial ones like the friction of his thigh against hers as they moved and the insistent pressure of his arousal against her pubic bone, the tingling of her spine, all the way to her hands and feet and the pulsing heat in her core that increased with every flick of his tongue and every nip of his teeth. They were playing a dangerous game and the potential for disastrous consequences was considerable. There was a reason why she had never looked for that kind of companionship within the LAPD and the rational part of her mind raised serious objections to the fact that she seemed to be starting now. And then his lips found that place behind her ear again, the one that made her knees go weak and her insides quiver with want.

In the end it was she who turned her head and captured his mouth in a kiss. It started out softly, a gentle exploration, a shy touch of tongue against lips. When he responded, careful at first so as not to spook her, she shut the door on those objections for good and burying her hands in the short hair at the back of his head, she deepened the kiss, letting their tongues meet and tangle, taste and find all those sweet, hidden places that made them moan. Thoughts of inappropriateness and risk soon vanished from her conscious mind as she let herself get lost in him, her body melting against his.

Only when the need for air forced them did they ease apart, just enough to draw ragged breaths, their foreheads touching. Their dance steps had deteriorated to a mere shuffling of feet, the rhythm entirely their own, their surroundings going completely unnoticed. Their entire world had shrunk to heat and passion, to the feel of the other's hands and mouth, the solidness of another body and the rapid beating of their hearts. Their lips and tongues wandered over exposed skin, wherever they could reach, lingering where they drew gasps or moans, meeting again and again in a dance all their own. Sharon was dizzy from lack of oxygen and desire, her insides burning and tingling with it. What she felt was not just the urge to have her physical needs taken care of. It went much deeper and the thought frightened her, but she was unable to pull back, to call an end to it, as she knew she should. Instead she kissed him once more, let him trace the curve of her jaw with gentle fingers, from ear to chin and back, down along the throbbing vein in her neck, travelling the length of her clavicle, over her shoulder and down her arm, leaving goose flesh in their wake. He captured her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and bringing them up to his lips.

As he brushed soft kisses against the back of her hand, his tongue circling her knuckles, their eyes locked and she nearly whimpered at the raw need she saw in his gaze and heard in his voice.

"I want you," he rasped, making sure she felt just how much, as he ground his hips against hers.

Closing her eyes, she drew a thin breath before she focused on his impossibly dark eyes again, drawing her bottom lip back and forth between her teeth unsure of what to do.

"Andy," she whispered, her tone conveying all the longing she felt for him. And yet, that small voice of reason in the back of her mind piped in once more, reminding her of what should not be. Shaking her head, she tried to pull away, the words barely making it past the heavy lump in her throat.

"We can't do this. I shouldn't have…"

He did not let her finish, his lips sealing hers with a soft kiss before his fingers replaced them, keeping her from continuing her objections while he voiced his own.

"We're not in LA. Here we're just Sharon and Andy. No work, no rules. There's only one question you need to answer. Do you want this?"

Staring at him for several heartbeats, she considered his words, before she squeezed his hand and gave it a gentle tug, guiding him through the dancing couples towards the elevators and the privacy of her room.

Once the decision was made, they hardly made it upstairs, almost missing the elevator twice. They had been too focused on each other to notice the doors opening and closing the first time. As soon as they were inside, Andy had her pressed against the wall, his hands cupping her face, their lips locked, one of her legs hooked behind his, drawing him even closer. She let her hands explore the strong muscles of his chest and upper arms, toying with his bowtie until it came undone under her fingers, giving her access to the top button of his shirt. By the time they reached her floor, she had opened the first three, revealing the white t-shirt he wore underneath. The discovery, while expected, drew a small whimper of frustration from her. Pushing him away from her, she grabbed his arm and practically dragged him the short way down the corridor, only letting go of him when she needed both hands to retrieve the key card from her small purse.

Andy used the unexpected freedom to move behind her, his hands stroking up and down her sides as he gently kissed her neck, tracing her hairline with the tip of his tongue. The sensation caught her completely off guard and it took her a while to get the door to open as she fumbled with and almost dropped the card several times. When she finally succeeded, Andy gently pushed her into the room, his hands resting on her hips as he walked behind her, her back pressed against him. As soon as the door thudded closed behind them, his lips attacked her neck and shoulders in earnest, exploring every square inch of skin her dress left exposed. The sensation of his insistent kisses drew a hum of desire from her, making her shiver in his arms and press her backside against him.

The friction of Sharon rubbing against his hardness almost drove him over the edge and without further delay he found the zipper at the back of her dress and slowly lowered it all the way to the swell of her butt, his tongue painting random patterns on the skin he revealed and then all the way up to her neck again. His hands brushed the dress off her shoulders, following its descent down her arms.

Once she was free of the restricting sleeves sliding down her arms, she reached behind herself to do some exploring of her own, moaning in anticipation as her hand closed around the sizable bulge in his pants and felt his hips roll into her grip. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, to run her hands over his muscles, to discover the taste of him and his reactions to her every touch. However, for the moment he did not seem inclined to grant her that wish, removing her hand from him as he turned them slightly. Grabbing both of her wrists, he moved them over her head, planting her palms against the wall and holding them there, covered by his. His body pressed against hers, chest against back, groin against butt, his lips against her ear as he rasped an almost breathless order. "Hands where I can see them."

Standing there between the wall and his solid body, restrained by nothing but his words, she felt a fresh wave of desire shoot through her like an electric current. She was by no means a submissive person, neither in life nor in bed, but the way he had issued his demand, commanding yet at the same time sounding almost helpless in his own desire, made her more than willing to give control up to him, at least for the moment, trusting him to take care of her needs as well. She arched into his touch as his fingers skimmed over her stomach and upward until he brushed along the underside of her breasts, feather light and teasing, denying her the firmer contact she craved so very much. Only when his sweet torture drew a frustrated grunt from her, making her push her lower body back against him in retaliation, did he finally cup her soft mounds, letting his thumbs brush over her silk-clad nipples, rolling them between thumb and forefinger until she whimpered, her forehead thudding against the wall as she struggled to breathe. He did not give her a moment to recover, moving along the edge of her dark blue bra to the front clasp, effortlessly unhooking it to let its contents spill into his hands, full and round, all creamy skin and sweet temptation.

Andy took his time exploring her body, finding out how she liked to be touched, what provoked the strongest reaction. He discovered that she was delightfully vocal about her pleasure, moaning and humming, grunting and groaning and whimpering, depending on how and where he stimulated her, if he merely teased or brought her the sensations she was craving. When one of his hands finally travelled all the way up her inner thigh, fingers dancing over the damp fabric of her panties, he uncovered a new sound, a strangled gasp followed by a long, almost pained moan as her hips pushed into his touch. Grinding his hard length against her backside, he slipped his fingers underneath the soft material, groaning as he felt her moist, swollen folds welcoming his long digits. The thought of her apparent arousal coating his fingers and its scent teasing his nose made his mouth water with the need to kiss her there, to run his tongue over her, to see her come apart underneath his mouth. Sucking her earlobe into his mouth, his tongue flicking it the same way he wanted to tease another part of her, he whispered his desire into her ear, making the translucent hairs at the back of her neck rise in reaction.

"I want to taste you."

Closing her eyes, she drew a shuddering breath, his words moving along her veins on a trail of liquid fire, right to her core. The idea of his head between her legs, lips and tongue driving her to the edge and further, was more than she could take. She wanted it more than her next breath, but the need to feel him inside of her, to be joined with him in the most intimate way was even more pressing. If he so much as blew his hot breath against her folds, she would explode and it was not what she wanted, not yet. She wanted all of him and turning around, she made sure he understood that as her arms came around his neck, her hands at the back of his head pulling him into a heated, messy kiss. When they were forced to pull apart, she rested her forehead against his chin, breathing heavily, her voice husky with desperate longing. "I can't. Not without you." She paused, gazing into his eyes, almost black with desire, trying to make him understand that it was just too much at that moment, that there was something else she needed so much more.

The raw hunger he saw in her eyes went straight to his core and he took a step back, letting her hands slide down to his chest before he clasped them and drew her towards the bed. Stopping at the foot, he studied her as she slowly, meticulously undressed him, taking as much time and pleasure in exploring everything she uncovered as he had earlier. When the last barrier fell, she let her fingertips feather down his chest and stomach, brushing over his twitching length, making him thrust into her touch helplessly. Her gaze was drawn to where her hand lingered, a dark shade of emerald, her lids heavy as she licked her lips in anticipation. She wanted to taste him just as much as he had longed to run his tongue through her curls, but just as she had earlier, he denied her the pleasure, shaking his head and once again removing her hands from where he wanted them most. Understanding passed between their locked gazes as he sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her between his spread legs, his thumbs hooking under the waistband of her panties to slowly draw them down her long legs. She was so close to him that the scent of her arousal almost overwhelmed him, making it practically impossible to resist the temptation to devour her, but he respected her wish to save that for the next time. Maybe he should be concerned about his confidence in the fact that there would be a next time for them, but at that moment there was no room for concern or any kind of consideration for the future. He wanted her and she wanted him and they would have each other. That was as far as his mind was willing and able to think ahead.

Shuffling back until he rested comfortably on the bed, Andy pulled her along, urging her to straddle him. When her moist folds brushed against his hardness, he groaned, pushing up against her, his arms reaching up to pull her down and into a long, deep, sensual kiss. It was almost too much – the weight of her body on top of his, her velvety skin under his hands, their lips and tongues caressing, tangling, teasing, their hips grinding, hard against soft, her arousal heightening his. Sharon seemed to agree, as she lifted her hips slightly, just enough to grasp him in a firm grip, positioning him at her entrance before she slowly, inch by painful inch, slid down onto him until he was fully sheathed inside her heat. A long, almost painful groan escaped her throat as she slid her arms underneath him, her head resting on his chest, her eyes closing. They lay like that for a long moment, completely still except for the sound of their rapidly beating hearts and laboured breaths, bathing in the divine sensation of being joined.

It had been a while since Andy had been on a date that had ended with a night of heated sex, but he had a hard time remembering when he had last felt a connection like that, the feeling that he would be perfectly content to just stay there in that moment of unity forever. In the end, they gave in to their desire, slowly starting to move, setting a languid rhythm of thrust and counter thrust, hands wandering and lips locked, tongues circling, tasting, teeth nipping and nails creating angry red lines that would only be noticed much later.

Her entire body tingled with desire, heat pooling at her centre as she rose and fell above him, meeting his thrusts with increasing urgency as she felt her insides tighten with built up need. Their bodies were slick with a thin sheen of sweat, gliding effortlessly against each other, stimulated to the brink of madness. She was so close she could almost taste her release, sweet and bitter, an end to something precious, and she sensed that he was approaching the edge as well, ready to jump with her. His clenched teeth and the iron grip he had on her hips spoke of his struggle to hold back and she redoubled her efforts to reach the brink and tumble over the edge with him, rotating her hips and trying to find the right angle. No matter how hard she tried, it stayed out of reach, her body wound too tight, too eager to succeed and it frustrated her, pushing her ultimate goal even further from her reach.

Andy saw the irritation on her face, felt it in the increasingly desperate thrusts and the plaintive sounds she made. Wrapping his arms around her to pull her against his body and still her movements, he made quick work of flipping them so she came to lie underneath him, grunting in surprise at the sudden manoeuvre. Gently placing one of her legs over his shoulder, he pushed inside of her hard just once before he paused again, capturing her mouth with his once more. When he drew out of the kiss, he cupped her cheek with one hand, urging her to meet his gaze as his other hand came to rest over her pubic bone, his fingers putting gentle pressure on the area just above it as his thumb flicked over her clit, until she pushed into his touch, rolling her hips against his.

"Look at me," he rasped, his voice heavy with passion and barely suppressed need. "Just look at me and breathe."

With those words, he began to move again, gradually increasing his pace, letting her own movements create the stimulation she needed as his hand just rested against her, the angle slightly awkward but manageable. She drew a few deep breaths, just as he had told her to, her belly rising against his fingers. Studying her eyes, he caught the moment her attention shifted inwards, focusing solely on the sensations their union created within her. He chose that moment to change the angle of his thrusts, hitting that elusive spot that made her gasp and tremble until her efforts to keep quiet failed. Soft moans turned into whimpers and then cries of pleasure, her walls starting to pulse around him as her hips jerked erratically, circling against him, seeking for that last bit of stimulation she would need. When she found it, her entire body went rigid for a moment, before she bucked against him almost violently, tossing her head from side to side, her nails digging into his back as she rode the tide of her release, pulling him along with her. He watched her fall apart underneath him seconds before his own world collapsed and then exploded inside his head, a jumble of lights and sounds and sensations, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. In those precious moments before her climax grabbed her she had let herself fall, had trusted him completely in a way no woman had done before and it filled him with pride and the irresistible longing to see it again and again.

Letting her leg slide off his shoulder, Andy collapsed over her, bearing most of his weight on his forearms, his head resting on the pillow next to hers. They were both struggling to breathe, their hearts beating wildly, slow to calm down. Sharon still had her arms wrapped around him, holding on to him to ground herself as the world slowly stopped spinning. After a while, he stirred, trying to roll off of her, but she wouldn't let him, tightening her arms around him. She did not want to let that moment of perfect intimacy slip away. As long as they stayed close like this, as long as she could feel him above her, skin on skin, their bodies still joined, thoughts of what would be next were easy to avoid. Considering the consequences of their spontaneous action was too overwhelming, too frightening and much too real.

It felt so good to have this bond with another person, something that was more than just mutual physical attraction and mere lust. It was that, too. That was a large part of why they had come together like that. It had grown over the years of their acquaintance, with every snark, every eye roll, every fight and every battle of wills. She had felt it in the tingling of her nerve endings, the flush of her skin, and the pleasant ache in her core whenever they crossed paths, whenever his looks lingered on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips or the shape of her legs.

She had always wanted him and he her. Her emotional involvement in this encounter and her longing for more closeness with this man was unexpected, however. Sharon had not exactly lived the life of a nun since the separation, but she couldn't remember ever feeling like this - not since Jack. The realization scared her, and she knew she should get up, put some distance between them, but her body wouldn't cooperate, the thought of moving away from him making her hold him even tighter, planting gentle, lingering kisses against his neck and shoulder, her tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of his skin. Andy growled, the sound vibrating through his body as he turned his face and buried his nose in her hair.

"That was…" He mumbled the words against her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. At a loss for words that would capture everything that had just happened between them, he fell silent again and she hummed in response, knowing what he was trying to say, but equally unable to express her feelings. Instead she turned her head and captured his lips with hers, drawing him into another deep, sensual kiss that left them breathless once more. When they parted after what felt like several minutes, she finally let him roll onto his back, pulling her along so that she was tugged against his side, her head resting on his chest, an arm and a leg draped over him. They lay like that for a long time, enjoying the silence and company, each lost in their own thoughts as fingers lazily painted random patterns on bare skin.

His voice startled her out of her reverie when he finally spoke, his tone hesitant, uncertain and his body suddenly tense beneath her hand.

"I guess I should go."

She felt a surprising sense of panic and sadness at his words and his attempts to disentangle himself from her and she rose to her elbow, her free hand planted flat against his chest, not restraining, but making him pause and look into her eyes. The neediness in her tone made her uncomfortable, but for some reason that did not matter. Not with him.

"Stay. Please?" she asked quietly, refusing to hide from his gaze, even though the embarrassment that burned in her cheeks tempted her, letting him see she meant it. When he relaxed back into the soft pillow, she gave into the urge to kiss him again, smiling at the eagerness with which he met her assault. Engaging into a playful fight for dominance, they nipped and licked and groped, seeking and finding places that would render the other incoherent with desire for a moment, sharing careless, messy kisses that made their blood boil.

In the end they had to yield to the limitations of their advanced years, their need for a repeat performance trumped by their bodies' refusal to cooperate. Collapsing in a breathless heap of sweaty limbs, they revelled in shared tenderness, soft kisses and gentle touches that calmed them into a state of boneless bliss. Eventually they started to talk, not about what they had done, because that subject was too complicated, too fraught with emotional landmines. They shared stories about the bride and groom, about how she had met Sarah and how she had met her again decades later, how he had pushed a reluctant Marcus to approach the pretty blonde he had been eyeing all evening. They talked and laughed about the wedding and weddings in general, about shared acquaintances and their children and a number of other more or less inane subjects until exhaustion pulled them into a relaxing slumber.

 **\- TBC -**


	5. Chapter 5

**Twice Into The Same Stream**

 **Chapter 5**

by Kate04

 _January 2005_

Looking at her was painful. They had cleaned the blood away from her face, had even gotten most of it out of her hair, but it only made the bruises more visible. She had a split lip, a cut over her right eye and one at the side of her head close to the hairline. The doctor had spoken to him earlier after the tests were done and they had Sharon settled in ICU. She had a severe concussion, a broken nose, a hairline fracture in her right tibia as well as several cracked ribs, not to mention countless bruises and they were still in the process of bringing her body temperature up. The reassuringly regular beeping of the heart rate monitor and the visible rise and fall of her chest calmed him slightly, but he would feel a lot better if she just opened her eyes.

The doctor didn't seem to be very concerned about the fact that she was still unconscious. He had told Andy that her body took the time to heal and that there was no reason to worry for now. The brain scans hadn't shown anything that would suggest a reason for her not to wake up. As far as the baby was concerned, he wouldn't say anything specific. For now, it was still alive and that was a good sign, but with her age and the trauma of the attack the risk of miscarriage was considerable. Sharon would have to be extremely careful over the next few months, spending as much time as possible off her feet, which her injuries would require anyway. It also meant that they were very cautious with the pain medication they gave her, until she regained consciousness and was able to make a coherent and informed decision about her pain management. Andy was certain that she would rather suffer through the pain than risk hurting the child, and there would be a lot of it for quite a while. Maybe it was a good thing that she wasn't awake yet.

He must have dozed off for a little while and it took him a moment to figure out what had startled him awake before he felt the small hand that he had still clasped in his twitch slightly. It was followed by a soft moan and a gasp that drew another, louder moan from her, no doubt from the pain her broken ribs caused when she breathed too deeply. Her face transformed from the mostly relaxed expression of unconsciousness to a mask of pain and confusion as she fought her way back to the world of the living. Andy held his breath as he studied her, wincing every time she flinched or moaned or frowned in pain. Before she even opened her eyes, her free hand slowly shifted to cover her belly, moving over the still flat expanse, searching for something, anything that would give her the answer she sought. Covering her hand with his and stopping her motion, he spoke quietly so as not to startle her.

"It's okay, Sharon. It's all right." He felt a large part of the tension leave her body on a soft sigh as both their hands rested protectively over the tiny being. Her gaze finally met his, the sparkling green eyes he had thought about so many times over the last weeks were clouded with pain and the lingering haze of unconsciousness. When she opened her mouth to speak, all that came out was a cough that left her breathless and moaning as it jolted her body. Andy reached over to the bedside table to grab the waiting glass of water and helped her take a few small sips. Her voice was hoarse and it took several attempts to force the words out, despite the warm water soothing her scratchy throat.

"What happened? What are you doing here?"

He tried not to let her question sting because she had a point. He had no business being here. They had decided to forget about what had happened between them, to move on and ignore the burning in their chests when they thought about it. What she didn't know was that he could not forget, that her sparkling, green eyes haunted him whenever he closed his, that he frequently turned around when he walked down the street because he thought he'd heard her velvety voice behind him, that he woke up from dreams of her sweet kisses and the feel of her soft skin against his. And she probably hadn't worked out that he was aware of the baby and who its father was. She could deny it, but it was pretty obvious. The timing worked and they had talked a little that night. She had told him that it had been a while for her and she didn't strike him as the type to jump right into someone else's bed. Not after what they had shared. It was something they would have to talk about later. The time for that would come. First they had to find whoever had hurt her and make sure they paid for their actions. Taking her hand in his, he drew gentle circles around her knuckles, relieved that it felt a lot warmer than it had earlier that day.

"You were attacked in the parking garage at work." He let that sink in for a moment, before he continued, "Can you tell me what you remember?"

Her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to unearth the memories. Frustration was scrawled all over her features and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. "It's all right. Take your time." Andy didn't have to tell her that they needed her statement if they wanted to nail the son of a bitch. She didn't need to know that they had absolutely nothing if she couldn't help them. The additional pressure was the last thing she should have to deal with. "Why don't you start somewhere easy? What's the last thing you clearly remember? Tell me about that and let's see where that leads us."

She thought for a while longer, sorting through fuzzy images and snippets of conversations inside her mind before she was able to lock onto something specific. "I was in my office working on a case. It was late and the rest of my team had gone home already." Slowly, everything slid into place, the puzzle pieces coming together one after the other. "I came across some problems with Gang and Narcotics that I was looking into. It turned out to be a bit more complicated than it initially appeared." Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to get a hold of those last elusive fragments that she knew would clear everything up.

Andy prodded gently, his question an attempt to guide her through the haze of her memories. "Who were you working with? Maybe if they tell us what that case was about it will all start to make sense."

Shaking her head slightly she went on, having caught another piece. "No, I was working alone. The investigation involved a high ranking…" Her eyes widened in sudden realization and she gasped as it all came rushing back, every last detail of the case and that evening, up to the moment she passed out. "Captain Sanders! That's who attacked me."

A slightly doubtful look on his face he tried to keep his voice neutral, wanting to believe that she had indeed identified her attacker, but needing to be absolutely certain. "Are you sure? Were you able to see his face?"

She started to fidget with the need to do something, or at the very least to get _him_ to do something, but her body didn't appreciate her restlessness, making her grunt in discomfort. Unable to move as much as she wanted to, Sharon put all her frustration and impatience into her tone. "No, I did not see his face, but I recognized his clothes. His jacket had a torn sleeve that I had seen earlier while I interviewed him. He must have figured out that I was on to him."

Captain Sanders was an idiot as far as Andy was concerned. He had never liked the guy, but to think that he would beat a fellow officer to within an inch of her life over some bullshit FID investigation was a little hard to believe, even though Sanders had a bit of a temper. When he voiced his doubts, he saw exasperation in her eyes and in the way her lips curled, so he raised a questioning eyebrow, waiting for her to explain.

"This is not about roughing up a suspect, Andy. It started there, but I came across some things that didn't add up and it made less and less sense with every new piece of evidence I dug up. He's not just dirty. Sanders is heavily involved with the Sinaloa Cartel."

At this point she had his full attention, her story suddenly making a whole lot of sense. "Son of a… So he's the asshole inside the department who's been giving tips to the gang bangers we're trying to find." Nothing annoyed him as much as one of their own working against them and he had a hard time containing his anger.

"I think he's doing more than giving them information. Look, I was going to call Chief Johnson in the morning, because I think Sanders is connected to the case you're working on. There's a folder with everything I found out so far in my desk drawer. It's not sufficient to nail him, but it should help shed some light on your case. The key to my desk is in my purse." She frowned again, trying to remember where it might be. She remembered dropping it during the attack and when Andy lifted it off the floor beside his chair, she was even more confused. Her brain was starting to shut down again, exhaustion trying to pull her under again, but she fought against it, watching him retrieve her keys with a triumphant smile before he took his phone out of his pocket and began to dial a number.

"I'll just let Provenza know what you told me and tell him to come and get the keys. I'll be right back." When he stood to leave the room, Sharon caught hold of his arm, wincing as pain that shot through her body at the sudden move.

"It would be faster if you just brought the keys to them."

Andy turned back towards her, a frown on his face as he took her in, eyes already starting to droop, only kept open by sheer stubbornness. "I won't leave you alone, Sharon." He didn't care that he might be giving away more of his feelings than he should, not after some lunatic had almost killed her. She just rolled her eyes at him, her voice heavy with fatigue, but still carrying her usual determination.

"That's very sweet of you, but I'll be all right. I doubt that I'll stay awake for another five minutes and there are really more useful things for you to do than sit beside my bed and watch me sleep. Go help your team solve that case."

She was right. Staying here wouldn't do much good once she fell asleep again. It didn't make him feel better about leaving her alone, however. Letting his hand rest against her shoulder, he studied her eyes closely to see if she meant it. "Are you sure?"

His response was nothing more than a quiet hum, as her eyes were already closed. Gently brushing a strand of hair out of her face he let his fingers feather over her cheek. After a moment's hesitation, he bent down to place a soft kiss against her temple, his lips lingering close to her ear. "I'll be back soon," he whispered before he straightened, grabbed her keys and his jacket, and left to do his job. He only hoped that someone else would get to Sanders before he did, because he really didn't feel like dealing with one of Sharon's minions. Visiting FID wouldn't be any fun when she wasn't there to glare at him.

 **\- TBC -**


	6. Chapter 6

**Twice Into The Same Stream**

 **Chapter 6**

 **by Kate04**

 _October 2004_

Her dream was intense in a way she had not experienced in many years. Her skin was on fire with the sensation of feather-light touches and questing lips, liquid heat pooling between her legs as soft puffs of hot air met her moist, swollen folds. The electric shock of a tongue flicking over her clit startled her awake with a gasp, which was immediately followed by a drawn out moan as the action was repeated. Blinking slowly to clear her vision, Sharon searched for and found his warm, almost black eyes, watching her from between her thighs, her hands moving into his hair on their own accord. And then he focused on his task again, teasing her with his lips and tongue and teeth, his fingers dancing over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, brushing through her curls and spreading her for his oral assault. She bucked her hips into him, her nails raking over his scalp, making him hiss against her. When he dipped his first finger into her wetness, spreading it, then lapping it up eagerly only to let the long digit sink into her once again, Sharon let the last coherent thought slip away and simply surrendered to the pleasure he gave her, moaning and crying out her delight and holding nothing back. For once she was not ashamed of her reaction, did not feel the need to control it, trusting him to catch her when she fell.

And fall she did. He seemed to know exactly how to touch her, reading the smallest of whimpers, the tiniest shift of her hips, adjusting the pressure of his mouth or the angle of his strokes accordingly. When he finally found that place inside her that very few before him had taken the time to seek, he picked up the pace, thrusting three fingers into her as his tongue and teeth attacked her bundle of nerves in earnest. Within minutes he had reduced her to an almost mindless vessel for the desire he created, built up until she thought she would burst, unable to contain any more of it. She was all flailing limbs, anguished cries and nearly unbearable heat until he allowed her to break free of it, to tumble over the edge into a sea of colour and sound and sensation.

She had no idea how long it took her to regain some semblance of awareness again. When she did, he was still kneeling between her spread legs, gently stroking her folds with his flat tongue, soothing the overly sensitive skin, a smug smile gracing his lips at every aftershock that went through her, making her tremble. She wanted to make a funny comment to break the emotional mood, to move them away from the frightening intimacy, the ease with which they interacted, but she came up empty, her brain unwilling to cooperate. Instead, she gently tugged at his hair, urging him to move. After one last, defiant nip at her clit that made her thrust her hips into him and ripped a moan from her throat, he slowly kissed his way up along her body until he rested beside her, his head propped up on his elbow as his other hand skirted over her stomach, her breasts, circled her nipples. He brushed a few wayward strands of hair off her face and planted barely there kisses in their place, on her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth, and along the curve of her jaw until he reached her ear and the soft spot just below it. There, he lingered, teasing it with his tongue, scraping at the sensitive skin with his teeth until she whimpered once more.

"I like that place right here." His words reached her ear on soft puffs of warm air, stirring more than just her hair. It was ludicrous, but she wanted him again, her body yearning to feel him inside of her, even though she had not yet fully recovered from that last intense orgasm and the thought of another experience like that was inconceivable. She would not be able to survive it. Turning onto her side to face him, she shifted one of her legs between his, her thigh pressing against his groin, a sly smile creeping over her face at her discovery.

"You shouldn't start anything you're not able to see through. You're clearly not up to it quite yet."

His response was a feral grin, a challenge clear in his eyes and tone, "Wanna bet?" Then he attacked all those spots again, the ones he had found out made her squirm and moan and mindless with desire. It took almost more strength than she had left to push him away from where he had latched onto one of her breasts, and he gave her an adorable pout, which she tried to wipe away with a quick kiss.

"Let me amend that. Don't start something _I_ won't be able to see through, because _I_ am clearly not up to it. You wore me out."

If possible, he looked even more smug than before as he moved to lay beside her again, trailing gentle kisses along her jaw to her mouth, drawing her into another lazy duel of lips and tongues before he let his head sink into the pillow.

He should get up and return to his own room and the overnight bag he had left there. Staying implied more than either of them should be willing to commit to. It should make him experience the familiar feeling of claustrophobia, something that usually happened when one of his casual acquaintances asked him to stay the night. Thoughts of cuddling, of morning breath and shared breakfast usually made him uncomfortable as he was never sure what was expected of him. When Sharon turned around and settled her back against his chest, drawing his arm around her, and lacing her fingers through his, the urge to run was surprisingly absent. Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed in her scent, and a sense of rightness and serenity filled him. He would worry about the implications of all this in the morning.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sharon woke up slowly to a room filled with early morning light, her body aching pleasantly as she stretched and reached out to the space next to her, finding it empty. As she blinked, trying to adjust to the light, the sound of the shower registered with her. Sitting up, she let her eyes take in the room and she noticed an unfamiliar bag on one of the chairs, her clothes neatly draped over the back of another. For a split second she considered getting dressed and leaving the room until she was sure he would be done and on his way, sparing them both the awkward morning after. When she climbed out of bed, however, her burning muscles and the rather obvious smell of sex made her change her mind. There was no way she could go out there without taking a shower first and that thought made other parts of her burn. Deciding to postpone the awkwardness a little, she changed course and headed towards the bathroom, stepping into the shower with only the slightest hesitation to appreciate his broad, muscular back, letting her eyes roam over him from head to toe, before she wrapped her arms around him from behind.

He must have heard her, because her sudden presence in the shower stall did not startle him. Instead, he turned around and let his hands slide over her wet skin as he captured her mouth in a long kiss. They did not speak. The time for words would come, but for the moment they both were content to enjoy each other. This time they were less hurried, the activities of the night before having taken the edge off their desire, giving them the opportunity to truly appreciate every touch, every kiss, and every tender look. He loved her breasts, his hands returning to them again and again, cupping them, fingers brushing along their sides, teeth and lips teasing her nipples until she moaned, the exquisite pain almost too much to bear. Sharon was equally fascinated with his backside, letting her hands wander from his shoulders all the way down to his thighs and back, never getting enough of the power rippling under soft skin. When he started to move further down her body, making his intention quite clear, she pulled him up again, shaking her head.

"Oh no! It's my turn now," she whispered hoarsely, gently pushing him back against the wall before she slowly sank to her knees in front of him, her eyes only leaving his once she had her goal right in front of her. She teased him mercilessly with feather-light pecks and delicate flicks of her tongue, denying him the firmer contact he craved and drawing a frustrated groan from him. When she thought she had tried his restraint enough, she wrapped her hand around him, stroking his length and enjoying the feel of him, all silk and steel, before she teased his tip with her lips, not quite letting him slip between them. His hands went into her dripping hair without attempting to guide her closer, making her look up at him as her tongue circled him. The sight almost took her breath away. There he was, over six feet of man, well-muscled if not quite as trained as he used to be, but still in great shape and strong enough to take what he wanted and yet he gave up control to her, his head resting against the cold tiles, his eyes closed as he focused on the things she did to him. This was a first for her. Usually, they tried to speed things along at that point, to force her head down on them, but he did neither, letting her set the pace and do whatever she wanted to him. When she gently nipped at him, she saw his body tremble in reaction, his fingers curling into her hair almost painfully, but still not restricting her. Deciding to reward his patience, she finally took him into her mouth, her free hand moving up his inner thigh, nails lightly scratching at the sensitive skin, urging him to move his legs further apart. He complied instantly, groaning when she used the additional space to cup his balls, gently squeezing them until he helplessly thrust into her, his control slipping bit by bit. She let her lips slide along his length, her tongue circling his tip, her hums making him shiver and twitch. Seeing him surrender so completely, trusting her with his body and his pleasure was more fulfilling than any sort of physical gratification could ever be. To have someone willingly give that kind of power to someone else was one of the most beautiful things that could happen between two people.

When he pushed her away from him, just far enough to slip out of her mouth and drag her to her feet, she wasn't surprised. She had felt the rising tension in his grip on her hair, the barely suppressed thrusts of his hips and the increasing urgency of his groans. Had he lost control inside of her mouth, she would not have minded at all, but the thought of being joined with him once more was even more appealing. He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms firmly around her as he took her mouth in a hungry kiss, water sluicing over their bodies, isolating them in their own world of slippery skin and escalating desire.

Sharon was so distracted by his sudden assault that she almost did not notice how he spun her around, captured her hands and pushed them against the wall, held in place by one of his own as he pressed against her back. His other hand brushed her hair to one side to give him access to her neck and shoulder, enabling him to chase water drops along her skin with his tongue, his lips sucking at the spot behind her left ear, leaving a small mark that he knew would be hidden beneath her thick mane. The thought of her wearing a visible reminder of their time together gave him a thrill, a primitive sense of possessiveness. She did not seem to mind, her head tilting to the side, a shiver moving along her spine. He let his free hand lazily wander over her front, teasing her breasts, finding the ticklish area just under her ribs, delighting in her surprised squeal and the way she squirmed against him. When he moved further down, his fingers sliding through her curls and dipping inside of her to test her readiness, she whimpered, pushing her backside into him, grinding it against his hardness.

"Take a step back and spread your legs," he ordered, his words firm, full of quiet authority, as if she had any reason to protest. When she complied with his request, she was instantly rewarded, as he entered her in one long thrust, both hands holding on to her hips. The pace he set was hard and fast, exactly what they both needed, his upper body pressed against her back, his arms sliding around her to hold her close. Sharon kept both hands flat against the tiles, arching her back and meeting each of his frantic moves as they raced towards the abyss together.

"Touch yourself for me," he rasped into her ear, voice close to breaking with his struggle for control. Once again, she did as he asked, letting her hand skim over her chest and stomach until it settled between her legs, fingers brushing against him where he moved inside of her before they found their target, drawing tight circles around it. When one of his hands covered hers lightly, feeling her increasingly hurried motion, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her shoulder, she lost hold of her control, bucking wildly into him, seeking to prolong the sensation of fire burning in her veins. A few moments later he followed her, his thrusts losing their rhythm, their joined cries of ecstasy echoing off the bathroom walls.

They clung to each other for a long time, letting the water beat down on them until it turned cold. Shivering and laughing at the insanity of their situation, they took their time washing each other's bodies and hair, their touches deteriorating into caresses as they stole an occasional kiss or tasted newly cleaned skin. Once the last trail of foam was washed away, they reluctantly left their little refuge, wrapping each other in soft towels before she stepped into his waiting arms, allowing him to simply hold her once more. They both knew that once they walked out of the bathroom, reality would start to close in on them, making it more and more difficult to push thoughts of what was to come out of their minds. Neither wanted to face the inevitable, but they had lives waiting for them outside these walls, lives that made what they both wanted impossible.

When it could not be postponed any longer they moved away from each other, both going through their usual morning routines without exchanging a word. The silence was heavy between them, weighing them down. With every second they got closer to that unavoidable moment, the lump in her throat grew, tears burning behind her lids, almost impossible to hold back. The thought of more, of romantic dinners, long walks on the beach in the moonlight, countless nights of passion and mornings of waking in the safety of his arms made her ache with longing, the realization that those things were impossible painful beyond words. How could she let go of this, of those magical hours outside of time, when it felt so right? How could she walk away and pretend this never happened, forget that during this one night she had found true happiness and emotional fulfilment in another person after more years than she dared count?

Placing the last of her things into her bag, she closed the zipper and gripped the handles, holding onto them tightly, desperately, as she stared out of the window in front of her. The sun was shining on the city outside, an ordinary California day dawning on an ordinary California town. Nothing out there was in any way special. Nothing out there reflected this special thing she had found in that room, that thing she could not define or understand, that thing she would have to leave behind in this hotel in Berkley.

As the first tears started to run down her cheeks, she felt his strong arms wrap around her and his solid body press against her back. He pulled her close, his face buried in her hair. They both clung to that moment, unwilling to leave their little paradise of togetherness. When the silence became too much to bare, Andy said what they both so desperately wanted to believe.

"It doesn't have to end here, you know."

Sharon let her head fall back against his shoulder, sighing quietly, wistfully. How she wished he were right, that they could make it work out there, that their jobs were no problem, that they could just forget about all those concerns and live happily ever after. Life did not work like that, however. There might not be explicit rules against a relationship between officers, especially considering they were not in the same unit, but it would not look good for either of them. Over the last few years, she had handled most of the complaints against Lieutenant Flynn and if someone wanted to harm one of them, they could use a possible relationship to draw the results of those investigations into question. Besides those obvious objections there was the fact that they did not really get along – or they hadn't until last night - and she was reasonably sure that those issues would come up again and that they wouldn't stay confined to the workplace. Both of them had failed marriages in their past and if the rumours were true, Andy hadn't been in another long-term relationship since. She certainly hadn't been serious about anyone in many years. She hadn't even found the courage to truly cut the ties with her absent addict of a husband. How could she consider entering into another relationship?

Her hands clung to his arms, a shake of her head and a hum her only reply. He thought he knew her reasons for refusing to consider taking this home with them and if he were honest, he would have to admit that she had a point, but he had to try regardless. How could he simply give her up without a fight when every instinct told him that she might very well be the best thing that had happened to him in years?

"We could just… It doesn't have to mean anything."

He almost choked on the words, every fibre of his being protesting against them. The small, unhappy hum, the sadness in her tone and the defeated slump of her shoulders told him she felt the same about his statement.

"You know it would. It already means too much."

Andy couldn't leave it alone. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help himself. A part of him simply refused to accept that they couldn't have it all.

"Is that really so bad?"

Sighing, Sharon turned around, leaning against the desk upon which her bag sat, her arms folded across her chest as a shield against him and her emotions, her eyes only barely able to meet his.

"Andy, it would never work. We are too different. We would end up killing each other, not to mention how it could damage both of us professionally. You'd forever be known as the guy who is sleeping with Darth Raydor. They'd never fully trust you again."

There was a lot she wasn't saying; how it would ruin her own professional standing, how everyone would make jokes about her falling for the resident womanizer, although he had no idea why he had that reputation; like most gossip, it got blown out of proportion over the years. The truth of the matter was that he could dismiss most of her points. He didn't care much about what others thought about him or if someone were to look into those complaints against him again. They would have to clear him eventually, just as Sharon had. They hadn't done anything wrong and as long as they reported it and made sure that she didn't deal with his conduct issues again, they would be all right. Even her argument about them killing each other was questionable. Although they had fought a lot in the past, he was convinced that most of that had nothing to do with dislike and any professional disagreements would cease to exist once someone else handled his file. What he couldn't live with was the thought of her taking a hit to her reputation. A relationship with him would be a black mark on her name. He was an alcoholic, known as a troublemaker, notoriously in conflict with the rules and all too easy to anger and associating with him would do some serious harm to the image she had spent decades crafting. He wouldn't let that happen, no matter how much it hurt.

He released a forceful breath before he nodded, his hand reaching out for her only to be drawn back at the last moment. The need to hold her one last time, to feel her in his arms, to taste her lips once more was almost too strong to resist, but he knew that once would never be enough. It would only make it harder to walk away if that was even possible. Holding her gaze for a long moment, he tried to convey everything he wasn't able to put into words, almost breaking his resolve to respect her wish for a clean cut when he saw her own pain reflected in her eyes. With one final nod he turned around, picked up his bag and started to walk towards the door, only to stop in the middle of the room when he felt a gentle hand on his arm. He almost ignored her, not sure if he could face her again, but in the end he couldn't _not_ look at her. He turned towards her and their lips touched for one last, soft kiss, her fingers brushing against his cheek when she drew away.

"Take care of yourself, Andy," she whispered as she took another step back, her arm falling to her side, hands curling into tight fists. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat before he replied, his voice hoarse.

"You too." He wanted to say more, to remind them both that they would probably run into each other soon enough, that it wasn't really goodbye, but that seemed only partly true. The next time they met they would be Captain Raydor and Lieutenant Flynn again and memories of those last few hours would have no place between them anymore. With a last lingering look into her teary eyes, he turned around for the last time and left.

Just before the door closed behind him, he heard the first sob and it was all he could do not to rush to her side and kiss her until neither one of them could remember why it was a bad idea, but he kept walking, away from what could have been a wonderful dream and towards a reality that looked just a little bleaker with every step he took.

 **\- TBC -**


	7. Chapter 7

**Twice Into The Same Stream**

 **Chapter 7**

by Kate04

 _January 2005_

She was awake when he came back a few hours later, sitting up propped against several pillows with an old book without cover in her hands. They had moved her to her own room since her condition was stable enough to take her off the monitors. It made it easier for her to get some much needed rest. Standing in the half open door for a while, he studied her, brow furrowed as she squinted at the pages in front of her. He remembered seeing her broken glasses on the ground next to her when he had found her and wondered if she maybe had a spare pair he could bring her. When he pushed away from the door frame against which he had leaned, Sharon looked up at him, closing the book and placing it next to her on the bed.

Walking into the room, he dragged a chair over to her bedside and sat down. The pain he had seen in her eyes earlier was still present, maybe even more so now that the initial disorientation had worn off, but there was something else in them. It took him a moment to recognize, as he had never associated this particular emotion with the kick-ass woman he knew. Fear. Sharon Raydor was afraid and that realization made his own heart clench in agony, hatred for the man who did that to her burning inside him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. They had already put the asshole away. All that was left for him to do was try and help her feel safe again. Taking one of her hands in his, he gave it a reassuring squeeze, a soft smile tugging at his lips when she closed her fingers around his.

"Hey. How are you holding up?" he asked quietly, holding her eyes with his to let her know that he wouldn't take anything but the truth. She hummed in reply, her voice sounding more like her usual smooth tone. "I'm still here, so I guess it could be worse."

When he raised an eyebrow at her evasive answer, she sighed before she elaborated. "It hurts. I feel nauseous, but being sick hurts even more, so I am trying very hard not to do that again." She closed her eyes briefly, her free hand protectively covering her belly. When she looked at him again, anguish and regret darkened those bottomless pools of emerald, taking his breath away as fear gripped his heart in its iron fist once more.

Sharon knew what he wanted to know, could see her own fear reflected in his intense gaze, but she was afraid that saying it out loud would make it more real, that she could somehow keep the inevitable from happening if only she kept it to herself. However, Andy had a right to know, and maybe he would leave her alone with her grief once she told him. Taking a deep breath, she let the words rush out, resisting the urge to look away from him. "I am having cramps." She didn't think it necessary to mention the bleeding, as understanding transformed his expression, sorrow deepening the lines on his face.

The doctor had told her that it was too early to say anything, that it could still turn out all right, but she had been there before and it was hard to keep past experience from influencing her attitude. Andy looked as if he wanted to talk about it, to reassure her, to somehow make it better but she simply couldn't take it. It was all too raw, she was too close to breaking and she would not do that in front of him or anyone else. When he opened his mouth, she just shook her head, wincing at the increased throbbing behind her eyes the sudden motion caused. He seemed to get the message, as he gave her a short nod and squeezed her hand. He straightened a little in his chair, slipping into his role of police officer, the familiar air of professionalism settling over him like a comfortable, well-worn shirt as he started to update her on the investigation of her assault. It was a distraction from a topic that was too painful to talk about, and she couldn't be more grateful to him.

"We got Sanders. The guys were already looking for him by the time I got there. When the Chief talked to Agent Howard about what happened to you, he told her that you had asked him to look into Sanders' finances and what he found out when he did. With the evidence we already had and everything you collected, we got him to confess. According to him, he worked alone within the department, but I guess that's something you and your guys will have to look into."

He gave her one of his crooked smiles and an eye roll to convey his thoughts on her division before he went on. "So when you're feeling better you'll have to give an official statement for the records, but there isn't gonna be a trial. The DA offered Sanders a deal. He gave up the names of the people within the cartel he's been working with and in exchange he goes down for corruption and assault on an officer."

Sharon could tell that he was unhappy with that deal, that he would have preferred to see Sanders stand trial for all those people they knew he had killed or helped to kill. Although she knew that they would get to some of the bigger fish with that deal, she was inclined to agree with him. If they got a good judge and the DA managed to sell it well, he might get ten years, which seemed so unfair when she thought about the innocent little being that might not get a chance to live because of him.

"Good. That's good. I am glad it's over." There was not much more she could say and it was true; she did not wish to think about Sanders and his side business and she did not regret not having to testify against him, even though she wished he would have to pay a higher price for his crimes.

Silence fell between them, covering them like a thick, oppressive blanket. The discomfort they felt was not the result of words they did not have, but of too many things they had left unspoken. It was there, the big, white elephant in the room and Sharon knew that they would need to talk about it. She saw it in his eyes, the quiet intensity of his gaze as it drifted to her hand that rested on her abdomen, only to lift to meet her eyes and then shift to fix on something else entirely. The entire time he kept her other hand clasped securely in his, thumb drawing gentle circles on the back of it in a slow, calming rhythm. A tiny spark of something came alive inside her, taking root, growing steadily every time his caress came full circle, every time their eyes connected and she saw her own fear and pain reflected in his gaze. A small, traitorous voice kept telling her that he was there, that he had come back when he didn't have to. Over the years, she had learned through painful experience how dangerous hope could be, and she had no intention to put herself into that position again. How well did she know him anyway? She had no way of knowing what he wanted, how he felt about her and the situation they found themselves in.

"Were you going to tell me?" Andy asked quietly, his head tilting towards her belly to indicate what he meant. Pain and betrayal were clearly visible in his dark eyes and Sharon felt a quick flash of irritation flare up inside her at the fact that he would think her capable of that kind of deceit. However, he had no reason to think otherwise considering how little they really knew each other. His experience with his ex-wife certainly did not help him trust her.

"Of course. I would never keep that kind of secret from you and I would never even think about keeping you from your child if you wanted to be part of its life. I merely intended to wait until things were a little more certain."

Turning her hand over underneath his, she let their fingers entwine, drawing strength from his firm, warm grip. "After Ricky they told me that I wouldn't be able to have another child. I didn't expect this and with my age-" She drew a thin breath before she continued, her voice hoarse with pain and fear. "It already was a high-risk pregnancy before this happened. I simply wanted to wait to see if there was anything to tell you. I didn't see a reason to tell you or anyone else when the likelihood of losing it was so very high."

Andy stared at her in open disbelief, shaking his head and opening his mouth several times in an unsuccessful attempt to reply. When he finally found the words, it was easy to detect the barely suppressed anger. "So what you're saying is that you went through all that uncertainty on your own and that you were prepared to deal with the heartbreak of losing a child without any support?"

She merely shrugged, immediately regretting her action when sharp pain shot through her body. "It wouldn't have been the first time," she whispered, forcing herself to look at him when all she wanted was to hide, to curl up and cry in agony from her injuries and the probability of having to say goodbye to this little creature without having met it. She didn't even know why she told him about that other time, a little over a year after Emily was born. Those terrible months when Jack had left her the first time, not knowing that she was pregnant. By the time he returned, it had all been over and she had not found the right moment to tell Jack about it, at least not at first. Years later, she had told him because she had been angry and determined to make him pay for everything he had put her through. Back then, all it had gotten her was a dark look, further recriminations, and another couple of years of loneliness as her husband had walked out once again.

The gaze that met hers now burned with tenderness and instead of resentment his tone was full of kindness as he gently brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Well, this time you won't have to."

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let herself fall and trust that he would catch her, that he would hold her up when her own strength was not enough. However, there were too many reasons why she could not, why it would be a terrible idea to lean on him, to let him stay. Shaking her head, she tried to extract her hand from his, her eyes shifting to a random spot on the wall as she tried to pull away from him. "You really should leave. There is no reason for you to be here."

Andy would not let her withdraw, tightening his grip around her fingers. "No," he growled, "I'm not letting you do this again. I walked away once and it was one of the worst things I've ever done. It's not going to happen again."

His determination was hard to resist. He seemed so certain, but she knew that it could not work. "There was a reason we walked away from this thing a few months ago and that reason is just as valid now as it was then. What you are suggesting is impossible." If only it did not feel so right. If only she could ignore how every single word hurt as it came over her lips. He just shook his head again, struggling to remain calm, to hold on to what little patience he had.

"It's not impossible. It wasn't then and it certainly isn't now. We were just too scared to try. We thought that we could walk away and it wouldn't hurt, that we would protect ourselves by not trying. I'm not sure about you, but it didn't work out for me." With a raised eyebrow and a pointed glare he waited for her reply, one she refused to give, because he was right; it had not worked for her, either. His grunt and the slight curl of his lips told her that he had understood what she could not say.

"Sharon, I almost lost you before I even really got to have you and that would've been my fault for letting you go when I should've held on. I thought about you. Every day. And there wasn't a moment when I didn't regret not fighting for you, but if you can look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you want me to leave, I will walk out right now." The last few words were only a soft whisper, showing her how hard they were for him to say.

She knew what she should answer, that the only right thing to do was to send him away, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Eventually, she dropped her gaze to the blanket in an attempt to avoid the raw emotions in his dark eyes. The gentle pressure of his fingers underneath her chin forced her to face him again and she thought she would drown in those burning pools of chocolate and affection.

"I don't want you to tell me how difficult it's gonna be or how it's gonna mess with our work relationship. I need you to tell me what _you_ want. If _you_ don't want this, I'll accept that. But if you're willing to give it a try, we'll figure it out. I'm not saying that it's gonna be easy, but I know that it's gonna be worth it.

Taking the slightly creased ultrasound picture out of his pocket, he held it up for her to see. "Sharon. _We_ are worth it. Together. This is proof of that."

Staring at the grainy image of the small miracle they had created, her tears were impossible to hold back. " _This_ very likely won't be there much longer. We shouldn't cling to false hope like that. It's only going to end in even more pain."

Clasping her hand with both of his, he squeezed it gently, letting his thumb caress her soft skin. "I can't promise you that it will be all right, but I can promise you that, whatever happens, you won't be alone."

"Andy…." More tears ran down her cheeks as she whispered his name, her voice breaking on the words that followed. "It's going to be over soon…"

His fingers squeezed hers once more. "Maybe. We'll see. But _we_ won't be. I want you, Sharon. I want _us_. With or without this child. What do you say?"

She studied him for a long time, her thoughts so jumbled they made her dizzy. Her first impulse was to run, to tell him to get the hell out of her room and never look back. That part of her that had been hurt over and over again was frightened by the idea of giving another person the power to destroy her. At the same time she wanted to cling to him and never let go. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her and all those arguments against exploring that option sounded less and less reasonable the longer she considered them. If they ended up being parents, keeping their involvement away from those who knew them would be a moot point, anyway. And if her worst fear should come true, the thought of having someone to share that loss with, a pair of strong arms to hold her and a broad chest to rest against did not sound so bad. In the end, she simply could not believe that they would be put into each other's lives only to have to deny those intense, all-consuming feelings. All that they were, all that they felt, and all that had happened only made sense if they were meant to be together, to at least try and make it work. Nodding, she smiled at him through her tears, tugging on his hands to make him lean down to her.

It started as a soft kiss, lips brushing, lingering for a long moment as they breathed the same air. Then tongues started to explore, gently at first, but soon they got lost in a heated duel that left them breathless. When her head started to spin, she pulled back, one of her hands resting against his cheek as he remained in her space, a happy smile on his face. Once she had breath enough to speak, Sharon voiced her most pressing question. "So, what do we do now?"

She was thinking of their long term plans, of what they would be to each other, of who they would tell and where they would go, but Andy ignored that aspect of her question, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Now you're going to scoot over a little and let me hold you."

He did not have to ask her twice and even though the tiniest movement hurt more than she thought possible, she gladly took it if that meant she could feel his arms around her again. Once they were settled with her head on his shoulder and her hand resting over his heart, they both truly relaxed for the first time in a very long while, the feeling of rightness almost overwhelming. The thought that they could have had this all along if only she had not been so stubborn made her sad, but maybe they had to arrive at that point in this particular manner. Life was an ever changing stream, always flowing, constantly turning. The opportunity to start over, to find oneself at the same crossroads and make a different decision came rarely, so there was all the more reason to grab it with both hands when it did. They had done the sensible thing and it had made them miserable. With this second chance it was time to go with what their hearts told them, to jump into that stream and not look back. Whatever happened next, they would face it together.

 **So, this is it. Thank you so much for sticking around till the end and for all your favorites, follows and wonderful reviews! I realize that this ending is a little more open than many of you might like, but I think this is the right place to stop.**

 **However, it is quite possible that someone - who I will not name to protect her from being hounded ;-) – might want to write a sequel. The idea is there, so once she has the time, I'm pretty sure it will happen. :D**


End file.
